


It'll Be Christmas Soon

by ScarSacrifices



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff with a Sad Ending, Gen, Glenn Close is a decent dad, Trans Character, Trans Nick, fuck you Freddy, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarSacrifices/pseuds/ScarSacrifices
Summary: As the boys are being held captive by the purple-robed grandfathers, Terry Jr. has a great idea to talk about what Christmas is like back home. Nick talks about how rad his and Glenn's Christmases are.(Inspired by my folks in the Dungeons and Daddies discord! this idea was to great not to write)
Relationships: Glenn Close & Nicolas Close
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	It'll Be Christmas Soon

“So… what was Christmas like growing up?” Terry Jr. asked. He was curled into a ball, sitting in the middle of the floor of the small bedroom he shared with the rest of the boys. It had been awhile since any of them had seen their grandfathers, something they were all thankful for. All of them sat in a loose circle, room illuminated by the light of the full moon washing in from the single window in the room, much too high to climb out of, besides, where would they even go if they could?

“Why does it matter TJ?” Grant muttered, he was facing away from the group, eyes locked on the wall away from him, not bothering to look at his friend sitting to the right of him.

“It’s not like there is much else to talk about…” He unfolded his legs, giving a weak smile to the rest of the group. “I’ve only spent one Christmas with Ron, and don’t get me wrong, it was really weird. He ended up getting me a business card printer. Who does that?”

“Is that why you gave everyone on the soccer team, cards that just said ‘Big oof’ in all caps?” Nick questioned.

Everyone in the group laughed weakly, but it was more then they had in a while. “Didn’t you give one to my dad?” Grant asked.

Terry Jr.’s eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight. “He looked so confused! I heard him asking some of the other parents what ‘oof’ meant.” He chuckled, grinning at the memory.

The laughter in the group died down, but unlike before their mouths were all slightly upturned. The twins piped in next.

“Dad refused to wrap our Christmas gifts because it was ‘bad for the environment’,” Lark made a face as the words left his mouth. “Instead he would hide them around the house for us to find.”

“And I always found more!” Sparrow chirped.

“You did not!”

“Mom once hid one on top of the fridge when we were younger. That’s where we learned the Lord of Chaos move!” Sparrow recounted, looking to his brother to finish the story.

“We secured the treasure in our grasp! It went down with us, but we died valiantly for our bounty!” Lark jumped to his feet; arm outstretched as if holding an imaginary sword.

“And then, the evil lord Henry banned all treasure from being held in high places, but we had already learned the lesson fate wanted us to that day.” Quicker than anyone could fathom, Sparrow climbed on top of his brother’s shoulders and grinned down at the still sitting boys valiantly.

Nick laughed, pushing the two boys until they were forced to break apart, Sparrow jumping down in a practiced move.

“What was your Christmases like Nick?” TJ asked, leaning forward, settling his head in his hands, looking attentively at the other boy.

“Oh, Christmas in the Close household was always epic…”

* * *

Nick had… well, he had been having a shitty week. A new teacher, Mr. Ellington, had decided that he was a problem student. Sure, he dressed like a punk rocker at the tender age of thirteen but that made him _cool,_ not a hazard to his precious society. The second Mr. Ellington’s eyes had laid on him he assumed he knew everything he needed to, it didn’t help that after he called Glenn in to “Discuss your daughters behavior” (And that sentence alone was enough to break through his dad's carefully held together chill.) Ellington had taken to making disparaging remarks about his ‘deadbeat dad’ anytime he could manage it. Glenn _was not_ a deadbeat, he had seen deadbeats on TV, and that wasn’t his dad. Glenn just worked a lot, the rock and roll lifestyle just didn’t leave a lot of time for things like helping with homework, and Nick understood that. He didn’t want to tell Glenn everything that had been happening because a Close can fight his own battles, and he would be damned if he was going to let some stuck up bigot get the better of him and the greatest dad in the world.

So, yeah, he was having a shitty week. So, when he woke up on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of February, he was a little confused as to why he wasn’t currently in the 6th period fighting with the worst history teacher on planet earth.

He stumbled out of bed, dragging a hoodie over his head as he left his room to investigate, he was pretty sure that Glenn didn’t have any gigs booked today and rehearsal always happened later in the day. He walked into the kitchen and found his dad, still in pajamas, smoking out of a bowl.

“Hey, is school canceled?” Nick asked, watching the smoke float into the air.

His dad spun in his seat, sticking the bowl out and offering it to him. Nick shook his head muttering a “Nah, I’m good.”

Glenn shrugged, lighting it again and taking a hit before speaking. “It’s Christmas little dude.”

Nick’s eyes widened, face breaking out in a wide smile. “Already? We just had Christmas in October!”

“Yeah, well.” Glenn finished up what was in the bowl and set it down, standing up and clapping his hands together, dad-style. “You looked like you needed some holiday spirit.”

* * *

“You get multiple Christmases a year?!” Lark cried, leaning heavily on his brother, looking fascinated at this concept.

“Yeah, I know right? Dad always works during the Christmas season so we kind of do it whenever the other one needs it.” Nick was grinning, he always knew he had the coolest dad in the world, but whenever he got the chance to show other people how cool his lifestyle was, it made it all the better.

“Where do you get the money though? Mom and dad always had to save for months to make sure I had a good Christmas.” Terry asked.

“Oh, we both keep surprise Christmas funds. I’ve been saving forever to try and get dad this super-cool drone that’s been on his list _forever._ I’m actually closer than I let on, it helps that I sometimes sell what he gives me on the side.”

Grant frowned at that, taking in a breath to say something but when he looked and saw the smiles on the faces of his fellow captives decided to let it go. “So, your dad just springs Christmas on you? That’s a weird tradition.”

“Oh, that’s not all we have in terms of weird traditions…”

* * *

They were both standing on the roof of their apartment parking garage, the afternoon sun blazing down and forcing warmth to settle into their bodies.

“You ready dad?” Nick asks, hefting a carton of eggs with his right hand.

Glenn smiles, picking up the second one and throwing an egg into the air, then catching it. “Of course.”

Nick steps to the edge of the roof, looking down at the sidewalk below them, a couple of passerby walking by, but not too many to where their fun would become mean and destructive, just enough people, however, to cause a bit of havoc. “Today we celebrate the hurling of twenty-four eggs from the roof of our parking garage!”

Glenn looks at his son, holding up the egg he had been tossing into the egg. “The most wonderful time of the year.” He drops the egg off the roof, watching as it shatters on the pavement, inches behind a young woman walking her dog. Glenn grabs Nick, ducking them both down on the roof, giggling as the woman looks around in concern before striding off.

They laughed together as they both threw eggs off the roof, watching as they splattered into traffic, and even after a particularly good throw by Nick, onto the sidewalk across the street.

Eventually their cartons were empty, laughter ringing out between the Close boys and they stumbled their way back into their apartment, Glenn almost falling over he was laughing so hard, but by then Nick was well accustomed to carrying his dad back into their home when he couldn’t walk straight.

“You guys attacked people with the unborn as a Christmas celebration?!” Lark gasped. He grabbed his brothers’ arm and shook him, “We have got to tell dad about this when we see him again.”

“Hmmm, I think this particular practice seems a bit mean, don’t you?” Sparrow responded.

“Nah, we never hit anybody…” Nick stopped, thinking for a moment, “Actually dad once hit our neighbor with an egg one Christmas in June. You should’ve seen his face!” Nick cracked up, leaning heavily on Terry Jr. as he did.

When he finally got control of his laughter, he smiled. “Anyway, back to Christmas…”

* * *

“Dad we are just walking into the living room can I open my eyes?” Nick whined; feet hesitant as he let his father lead him blind through their home.

“Nope! What, don’t trust your pops?” Right as the words left his mouth Nick’s foot slammed into the edge of the couch.

Nick hissed in pain stopping to cradle his stubbed toe, although like his dad asked his eyes stayed shut.

“Aw, sorry man. To be fair, I’m pretty chilled out right now.”

“I get it, dad. We are in the living room at least.” He leaned against the couch arm rest, eyes remaining closed. “Can I have my vision back now?”

“Yup!”

When Nick looked up, taking a second to investigate his injured toe, he could barely believe what he was seeing. “Dad is that…”

Glenn went and stood by the gift waiting in the middle of the room. “The old GC3 one wasn’t conducted for a real rock n roller. You needed your own.”

Nick gazed at the beautiful neutral toned (totally unbranded but definitely could be) drum set that lay in front of him. His dad was right, the old ratty one that used to belong to the Glenn Close Trio was shit compared to this one. He walked over and sat down on the plush black seat and gently ran his hands over the drumheads.

“Another reason for our neighbors to call the cops, huh?” He joked.

“Yeah…” Glenn trailed off looked lost in thought for a moment, “Oh!” He exclaimed. He turned and began ruffling through the kitchen cabinets and after looking in a cereal box procured two dark wooden drumsticks. “Almost forgot about these.”

He handed the drumsticks to Nick, the boy grinning from ear to ear, twisting and twirling the sticks in his hand getting a feel for them, when his thumb brushed over something indented on the hilt.

Engraved on the butt of both drumsticks was simply “Close2”. He looked up to find his dad gone and just as he stood up to go find him and thank him, he walked back in the room, guitar slung over his shoulder.

“Come on kid, lets break in your new set with some of the greatest hits of the Close Boys.”

Nick smiled, gripping his drumsticks firmly, clicking them together and counting his dad in.

* * *

“He got you a drum set? Why not a guitar like he plays?” Grant asked, a little more investing in this tale then he would’ve liked to admit.

“Guitar players are overdone, besides no one likes a copy-cat. I have to find my own music.” Nick explained, grinning.

“That sounds nice, Nick, being able to have a way of cheering each other up.” Terry inputted.

“When my dad comes to rescue us, I bet it’ll Christmas. We both will need some cheering up.” Nick said, laying his head on his knee, closing his eyes with the thought.

“How do you know that they’re coming?” Grant muttered. The rest of the boys turned to face him; eyes wide in shock. “Oh, come on! We’re all thinking it. It’s been weeks! If they wanted to come gets us, they would’ve done it by now.”

Terry stared, hesitantly reaching out a hand to his friend. “Grant you don’t really think that—"

“Think about it! It’s been weeks, either they died out there trying to get us or—” Grant lowered his voice, turning away from the group and staring up at the window. “—Or they just don’t care.”

Nick stood up, hands balling into fists at his side. “I don’t care what any of you think. My dad is coming to rescue us, he is the coolest per—”

Grant stood, spinning and facing Nick. “Your dad was a deadbeat! He shared his alcohol and drugs with his kid who parented him more then he ever did. When was the last time Glenn helped you with your homework? Or made you dinner that didn’t come in a microwaveable box? Or was there on Christmas!”

“Grant. Cool it.” Nick gritted, fists going white-knuckled beside him.

“Oh, cool it? You want me to cool it? You need to wake. Up. Your dad was never there when it mattered so what makes you think he will start now?”

Terry Jr. stood up, inching his way closer to his friends. “Guys, I think you both need to calm down—”

“No!” Nick yelled. “Okay Grant we get that you have a shitty relationship with your dad but that doesn’t mean that you get to critique the way me and mine manage ours. I understand that Darryl tells you jack shit and in return you tell us jack shit. What _happened_ to you, man?!”

“None of your fucking business.” Grant gritted out, he got closer, shoving himself into Nick’s face. “Leave me alone.”

And Nick was taught never to back down from a fight. “Oh, I get it, wonder boy can psychoanalyze other people’s relationships but the second anyone calls you out on how fucked up you are—”

Grant pushes him. His hands come flying forward, shoving at Nick with all his might, knocking the other boy prone on the floor.

Terry Jr. rushed to get in between them. “Grant!”

Nick looked past TJ with wide eyes, not moving from his place on the floor.

Grant looked horrified, glancing between Nick and Terry Jr. He took a step forward, Nick flinching back. “Nick… I’m so— I’m so sorry. I don’t know what…”

“Fuck off, Grant.” Nick picked himself up, moving towards the farthest corner in their small shared room and curling into a ball.

“I didn’t…” Grant muttered to no one.

“I know.” Terry Jr. said. He carefully set a hand on Grant’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’re all a little stressed right now. You both need a breather.”

Across the room Nick curled a little more into himself, his hand came up, gripping the guitar pick emblazed with GlennClose3 on it, pressing it into his palm. “He’s wrong. They’re all wrong.” He settled his head between his legs, “It’ll be Christmas soon. It always is.”

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being Incredibly sad, and the fact I'm posting it on fathers day? My apologies. My hand slipped. Also while I do personally want to believe that Glenn is an Okay-ish dad (fuck you Freddy, let them be happy) I also didn't want to erase the fact that, yeah, he's still not great. Also, I'm aware this isn't my best work, I wrote it at like midnight last night in a dad-induced haze.
> 
> Thanks again for my folks in the discord !!!


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